Final Fantasy X 0
by VermillionSky
Summary: The final part of the Final Fantasy X trilogy, detailing High Summoner Braska's pilgrimage to defeat Sin, set before the original game. Please R&R. [Abandoned]
1. The Jecht Shot

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**FINAL FANTASY X-0**  
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The trilogy of Final Fantasy X is complete, with this prequel to the original, detailing High Summoner Braska's pilgrimage to obtain the Final Aeon and to defeat Sin. From Bevelle to Zanarkand, the epic journey takes Braska and his guardians on an adventure unlike the world has ever seen before...  
I do not own any of the characters mentioned within this story, and it is a non-profitable piece of work.

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**Part I - The Jecht Shot  
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The streets of the great city of Zanarkand were usually packed full of people, people shopping, people selling, people just out for a walk. Even at night there were thousands and thousands of people around, restaurants and bars open for all. But not tonight. The streets were deserted, not a single person walked by in the streetlights, the shops all closed, darkness filled each and every one.

A newcomer would have thought that the city slept at that precise moment, but a moment later would have changed their mind. The faint roar of a crowd swept down the tarmac surfaces, originating from the centre of the city.

From the Blitzball stadium. Home of the Zanarkand Abes!

The stadium roof slowly opened, huge mechanical gears swinging the roof open, two halves moving apart, letting the night air in, and the light out. Lights flooded the stadium, yellow, red and black, the colours of the Abes. It didn't matter to the home crowd who the opponents were, the Abes always won! Thousands of supporters lined the seating area, but none were seated, every one stood and cheered at the start of the new Blitz season. The most popular sport of Spira. The ONLY sport of Spira, most people would say.

Down in the team rooms the Abes psyched up. High fives were exchanged rapidly as the team of 6 lined up before the door. The player at the front opened the door and stepped out. Hair as black as the night held back by a red headband shook as he moved, black stubble lined the bottom of his face, dark eyebrows above his eyes, a piercing gaze that frightened opponents and teammates alike. A three pointed black tatoo covered his chest, the sign of the team. He was Jecht, star of the Abes, and he knew it.

They lined up in formation inside the sphere, all of them seated around a huge circle of concrete. Another hollow circle moved slowly around it - the energy created as the two circles spun around each other would keep the water suspended in a perfect sphere between them. Jecht sat at one side, the star striker, top scorer for the last 3 seasons. The crowd screamed and shouted and chanted, the arena became a cauldron of noise, the stadium literally shook with the noise. Jecht grinned, he loved these moments.

The circles hummed as energy filled them, water began to appear, gradually covering all of the 12 players, a perfect sphere of liquid, a triangular goal at each end. Everyone was ready. The Zanarkand Abes against the Zanarkand Poles was about to begin...

The horn blared, its high pitched scream filled the area, and the game began. The Blitzball powered up into the centre, and the opposition player flung himself at it, getting the first touch, but not for long. Jecht slammed into him, his left arm connecting with the man's stomach, the black armour he wore there was for a reason. The player inevitably dropped the ball, and Jecht grabbed it, flinging it back towards his teammates as he raced forward in the water for space. The ball flew towards him a moment later, a pinpoint pass that no opponent got anywhere near. Jecht moved up in the water, grabbing the ball before hammering it at the top of the goal with his right foot.

Not unusually, it went in, the goalkeeper diving, but the ball had passed him before he knew it. The klaxon sounded, the crowd cheered louder. 1-0 within seconds! Jecht turned and moved back to his team again, high fives all round. That was just a teaser for them!

Kick off again, and the lead guy took it again. Jecht spun at him, but his opponent had read his move early, and dodged the boot aimed at his head, before powering the ball at a teammate. Play continued, a fast-paced game with numerous kicks, elbows and shoves aplenty. The ball came at Jecht from defence, and he twisted round to grab it, when he saw two Pole defenders moving towards him with speed. He thought quickly, time for the real Jecht!

Stretching left, he took the ball in one hand, then flung it as hard as he could at the lead defender's body. It hit her in the stomach, the force of it sending them spinning off out of the globe, the woman sent sprawling into the third row of the crowd, followed by a spray of water. Jecht wasn't watching though. He waited for the ball to return, and swung his right boot at it, booting it at the face of the second player. By now the crowd knew what was coming. The man couldn't move away in time, the ball catching him on the forehead, and sent spinning up high. Jecht was already rising, and spinning as he did so. The ball approached him, and he emerged from the fast spin perfectly, his boot connecting with the ball with as much power as he could muster. The ball spun in the water as it travelled, and the goalkeeper was never going to save it. No-one ever had!

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7-2 was the final score. The Abes had annihalated yet another team, and Jecht emerged from the stadium a hero yet again. He strode out of the main gate, between the two huge statues that had stood there for centuries, to a large crowd of people chanting his name.

"Great game Jecht!"  
"The legendary Jecht Shot again! Fantastic game!"  
"Jecht! Jecht!"  
"Can I have your autograph?"

He smiled, but though he liked the title of 'the greatest Blitzball player ever', he hated the publicity. The idiots surrounding him, talking to him like he was their best mates. He moved past the crowd, no doubt leaving some disappointed that he hadn't spoken, or performed his shot for them one more time. He could do that shot with his eyes closed, it was so easy, but he knew that it would wear thin if he did it every minute of the day. He would keep them waiting until the next match! Fans were fickle, easy to manipulate, and he would knew how to keep them in suspense.

He made his way home, though he didn't know whether his wife would be there yet, as she'd been a spectator at the match, with that kid of his. No 'backstage' pass, no special treatment, she hated all of that, she just wanted to be a normal supporter, and he loved her for that, as well as everything else!

He swaggered in through the front door, hoping to see her there, but she wasn't around. He was disappointed, but not surprised. She'd be back a bit later, probably trying to stop Tidus crying. He always cried, why couldn't he be a proper man like his father! He pushed thoughts of his son away, and pulled off his clothes throwing them in a pile, with the exception of his black armour for his arm, which he placed gently on its own shelf, treating it like any true Blitz player treats their kit. Then he climbed into bed, the loss of energy spent in the game was finally kicking in. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

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And that's the first chapter done! Any suggestions, or if I've made any factual errors so far, then feel free to mention them, hope you enjoyed it so far!  
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	2. Final Dawn

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**FINAL FANTASY X-0**  
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The trilogy of Final Fantasy X is complete, with this prequel to the original, detailing High Summoner Braska's pilgrimage to obtain the Final Aeon and to defeat Sin. From Bevelle to Zanarkand, the epic journey takes Braska and his guardians on an adventure unlike the world has ever seen before...  
I do not own any of the characters mentioned within this story, and it is a non-profitable piece of work.

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Part II - Final Dawn  
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Daylight streamed in through the skylight above his bed. Zanarkand was waking, and Jecht was no different. He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. As they eventually became accustomed to the light and his vision grew better, he looked at the space in the bed beside him. She lay there, sound asleep, long blonde hair as golden as the beach he'd met her on, years ago now. He hit a panel on the wall next to him, and a screen moved down from the bedroom ceiling, the Zanarkand News showed on it, a little blurry.

"Crazy idiots haven't even gotten sphere movies working properly yet," he muttered to himself.

There was movement beside him, and his wife moved closer to him as she woke, putting an arm around him as she always did on mornings like these.

"How is the superhero feeling today?" she whispered, kissing him on his left cheek. Jecht didn't answer - he never did, and she knew enough about him to know that he wasn't ignoring her, or being rude. It was just his way, he never showed much emotion, apart from anger, but she knew that deep within him he was just as emotional as anyone else.

The news broadcast moved on from the latest machina developments to sport, the reporter's voice filling the room,

"The Zanarkand Stadium last night hosted the first match of the Blitzball season, and despite many supporters being unsure of how this season would go, for the Abes in particular, this was just another game. 7-2, it finished, total domination from Zanarkand's premier team, and one player in particular."

The screen cut to highlights of the game, the first couple of goals flying in past the helpless goalkeeper for the Poles. The reporter spoke over them,

"Before this season started, many critics had expressed doubt about whether 35 year old veteran striker for the Abes, Jecht, could still cut it at the highest level."

Jecht chuckled to himself, idiots, the lot of them. Blitz critics all spoke utter rubbish. Ha! 5 goals in the first game showed them what they knew about the sport!

He heard words whispered in his ear, "ignore them, you'll always be the best, and not just at Blitzball!"

He turned towards her, and in doing so saw the door push open. A kid of about 7 stood in the entrance, he looked upset.

"What's up honey?" His wife was already getting up to see to him. Jecht turned away, it was obvious Tidus had been crying again. Wimp. How was he ever going to even begin to follow in his old man's footsteps?

The sound of his wife moving downstairs with his son brought him from his thoughts and back into the real world. The clock on the news channel said 10:50. Jeez, he hadn't slept that late for a long long time. Maybe he was getting old. He grunted disapprovingly at himself, and forced his body out of the comfort of the bed. Time for some early morning training...

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Maybe not 'early' morning training, he thought as he arrived at the beach. The city had been busy as he'd travelled through, and fans had surrounded him wherever he walked, shouting random things that he assumed he was supposed to listen to and acknowledge. Around 5 children were still walking after him, even though he hadn't said a word! Crazy.

"Do a Jecht Shot!"  
"Yeah can you show us a Jecht Shot!"  
"I heard that you just invented a Jecht Shot 2!"  
"C'mon Mr. Jecht!"

Jecht abandoned his 'ignore them and they'll go away' policy, and decided to please these kids. He took a ball from the nearest one (whose dyed purple hair annoyed him) and spun it on his right hand index finger, before flicking it up in the air, then vollying the ball as far away as possible. Hopefully they'd go and get it.

"Whoa! That was brilliant!"  
"Can you teach us how to hit them that far!"

Jecht screamed inwardly. Anything he did was great, even if it wasn't. Didn't these kids have families to go to anyway! He decided to deal with them.

"Ok you lot, how about I sign these Blitzballs of yours', and you all let me train in peace!"

They gawked upwards at him, confused and slightly upset.

Jecht moaned, and tried a new approach, "if I can't train, I won't be able to play as well next time!"

This finally changed their minds, and after giving them a rare autograph to treasure (the purple-haired kid even ran half a mile across the sand to retrieve his ball), he finally had the beach to himself. It was pretty chilly, despite the sunlight, and no-one else had bothered coming down to it. Bliss.

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As usual, he started with a few basic warm-up routines, swimming above and under the waves, practicing basic tackles and movements. He didn't have a ball with him, this was just for training his body, keeping his supposedly 'past it' figure in Blitz shape.

He'd been out about an hour when something strange happened.

The water suddenly grew ice cold.

He swore out loud, and started swimming back to shore. What was going on? He felt like he was going to freeze any minute. His breathing sped up, and the usually calm Abes' star was now panicking.

Panic, though, soon turned to sheer terror. The water, which had been calm only a second earlier, became choppy, and a dark shadow began to creep over him. He spun around, his heart pounding in his chest.

What he saw was unimaginable. A huge wave-like creature loomed above him, stretching away to his sides as far as the eye could see. What was going on? What was happening to him?

The 'creature' seemed to have stopped right in front of him. It didn't appear to be concerned with the city behind him, it seemed to be more concerned actually with him. He had to escape. He spun back, starting for the apparent safety of the shore, then he stopped.

He was miles away. He must have gone further than he thought. Safety was gone. He did what he never thought he'd do. He closed his eyes, and screamed...

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These two chapters were part of an introduction to the main story, what do people think? Any suggestions, or if I've made any factual errors so far, then feel free to mention them.  
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	3. Farewells And A Greeting

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**FINAL FANTASY X-0**  
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The trilogy of Final Fantasy X is complete, with this prequel to the original, detailing High Summoner Braska's pilgrimage to obtain the Final Aeon and to defeat Sin. From Bevelle to Zanarkand, the epic journey takes Braska and his guardians on an adventure unlike the world has ever seen before...  
I do not own any of the characters mentioned within this story, and it is a non-profitable piece of work.

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Part III - Farewells And A Greeting   
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"Summoner Braska! So good to see you today!"

Both men bowed to each other, performing the sign of Yevon as they did so, both hands across the body, shaped as if cupping a ball between them. This was the temple of Bevelle, and nothing less than a proper greeting, respecting the laws of Yevon, would suffice. Braska smiled,

"How are you, Hasse?" Braska asked, both men walking towards the doors of the temple as they talked.

"I am well, but that is not important, it is your health that matters, after all it is you who is going off to vanquish Sin. The temple of Yevon... the city of Bevelle... Spira, is supporting you, I am just another priest."

Braska shook his head, sighing as he did so. "You know as well as I do, Hasse, that the temple and Bevelle care not. I am an outcast, made so because of unfounded prejudices."

Hasse started to object, but Braska interrupted him, "there will be no parade tomorrow, no crowds cheering the latest Summoner to set off to defeat Sin. Nobody cares anything for a person like me."

"Your daughter cares."

Braska smiled, "she is the reason that I am going. Whenever I look at her, she reminds me of her mother..." His voice trailed off into thought for a few moments, and the two men reached the temple entrance in silence. Braska turned to his friend, one of few he had left after his marriage to an Al Bhed had caused uproar within his faith.

"Goodbye Hasse, I fear it may well be the last time we meet." The two men bowed again, and Braska pushed open the temple doors, leaving into the silent Bevelle night, the doors closed softly behind him.

It was early in the morning rather than late, and Braska walked slowly, not wanting to waste his last night in the city. Not a single noise could be heard, save for the soft trickle of the water as it flowed by the main streets. Then there was a sound.

Laughter, coming towards him in the dark. He kept on moving, but the laughter moved closer with every step, accompanied by a loud conversation. He stopped and waited, looking back from where he'd walked from. A moment or two later two Bevelle guards approached, probably on the way back from a watch. Bits of their conversation could be heard.

"No way was he beating the two of us!"  
"Thinks he's from Zanarkand!"  
"Crazy"  
"Never heard of Bevelle!"

They eventually noticed the Summoner stood on the path in front of them, and they grew silent, bowing with the sign of Yevon, as was normal. They were about to walk on past when Braska made up his mind. Something told him that he sould find out more about this person, and he stepped in front of the guards.

"A man from Zanarkand?"

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"Thanks for everything, Kinoc," Auron said to his friend. Dawn was just breaking, and he had arrived at the Crusaders' tent to say his goodbyes.

Kinoc nodded, "I know I don't need to tell you this, but guard Lord Braska well."

"That, I will," came his reply, "and you'll be busy, too. I heard they made you second-in-command."

A slight smile appeared on Kinoc's face, but it wasn't completely joyful, "you know that promotion was meant for you. You were always the better one, even until the end."

Auron shrugged, to say he didn't want the promotion would be wrong, but circumstances had changed. The promotion wasn't worth what he was being asked to do to gain it. He had wanted the promotion - still wanted it in the bottom of his heart - but he knew he would not be being true to himself by accepting the demands to get it. He brought himself back to the present. "You make it sound as if I was going off to die or something. I will see you again."

Kinoc nodded again, "yes."

An uncomfortable silence followed, neither man quite knowing what to say. Auron knew it was time to go, he'd said his farewells now, "well, then..."

"Going already? You will tell me about Zanarkand when you return, won't you?"

Zanarkand. It seemed so far away right now, but he would never pull out, he would accompany Braska there, and as his Guardian protect him with his life. He nodded, "farewell."

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Jecht rattled the door of the cell, shouting at the corridor he knew was past the door into the room. What he didn't know, however, was that there was nobody in it to listen to his complaints. He slammed his body against the door, putting all of his power into it, but it didn't move an inch. He shouted in anger again, and punched the door in frustration.

"Aaarrgghhh!" pain shot through his arm instantly, and he recoiled, waving his hand around in a feeble attempt of reducing the agony. He swore loudly, before slumping down into a corner of his 'prison cell'. The moment of rest gave him a chance to collect his thoughts, but rather than answer his questions, they created more.

What had happened in Zanarkand? Where was he now? Why didn't those idiots believe he was from Zanarkand?

He'd lost conciousness midway through the 'attack', and when he came to, he was being carried by a soldier of some kind. Thinking he'd been arrested, and fearful because he had never seen a soldier's uniform like that before, he had tried to fight the man off, punching him in the chest. The soldier inevitably dropped him, which Jecht had expected, but what he hadn't expected was for there to be another soldier with him...

His thoughts were interupted with the door clicked, and a second later swung slowly open.

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Braska entered the room. He had been directed back to the temple, and on his way had stumbled into Auron, his Guardian. Similar circumstances had put the two together on the pilgrimage, both being outcast by their supposed friends. Auron had been sceptical about the idea of meeting this man from Zanarkand, but Braska didn't want to let the oppurtunity pass. If he left without speaking to this man then he knew he would regret it at a later date. He convinced Auron eventually, and after words with the few priests still remaining in the temple at this early hour they had finally arrived to where they said this man was being held. He even found out his name: Jecht.

The first thing he noticed was the appearance of the man. Dressed in black shorts, with a red drape down one leg, he also had some kind of armour on his left arm. A large symbol covered his chest, tatood on in black, the colour of his unkempt hair. He certainly wasn't from Bevelle, maybe not even Spira. Even the Al Bhed didn't dress that unusually. He looked like a Blitzball player, but not from a team Braska had ever seen play.

The man looked up, "who are you?"

Braska decided not to answer that yet, he wanted to find out a bit more first, "you are the one they call Jecht, the man from Zanarkand, are you not?" he asked.

The man turned away slightly, passively. He seemed defensive in some way. "What of it?"

"Watch your tongue, knave!"

Braska turned to see Auron just entering the room. Though he meant the best, sometimes he could be unforgiving and abrupt, especially with people he didn't take a liking too. It was obvious that this Jecht had fallen into that category. But Braska wanted this man to help them, and offending him would certainly not help.

"My apologies," he started, "I am Braska, a Summoner. I've come to take you from this place."

Jecht's eyes widened, and a smile crept onto his lips. He cheered up immediately, and said "sounds sweet. What's the catch?"

Braska was impressed by how quickly he'd caught on, "Ahhaha... That easy to see, was it? I soon leave on a pilgrimage... to Zanarkand."

"Seriously?"

Braska had just made up his mind, having this man along with them seemed like it would be for the best. Though it couldn't really be possible that he was indeed from Zanarkand, Braska was beginning to believe that he indeed was. Everything about him, from his appearance to his attitude, suggested he wasn't from Spira. "I would like you to join us," he started, "it will be a dangerous trip. Yet, if we do reach Zanarkand... my prayers will be answered, and you will be able to go home, we think. What say you?"

Jecht agreed without a second thought, jumping to his feel with a cry of "great, let's go!"

"Then it's settled," Braska was pleased to have this person with them. It would be the best for all people, he thought. Jecht could help them along the way, and tell them about his city, if it was actually Zanarkand, and in doing so, Braska could help take him back to his home.

Auron had other ideas though. "But I must protest... this drunkard a guardian?"

Jecht wasn't impressed, moving to the door of his cell. "Hey! You want to step in here and say that?"

Braska sighed. "What does it matter? No one truly believes that I, a fallen summoner wed to an Al-Bhed... could possibly defeat Sin. This is what they say. No one expects us to succeed."

His words calmed Auron down, "Braska, sir..."

But he continued on. "Let's show them they're wrong. A fallen summoner, a man from Zanarkand... and a warrior monk, doomed to obscurity from refusing the hand of a priest's daughter. What delightful irony it would be if we defeated Sin!"

Auron nodded his approval, reluctantly agreeing to Braska's plans, and there was a moment of quiet, broken by Jecht complaining "stop gabbin' and get me outta here!"

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I've finally reached the start of the pilgrimage (kind of!) after 3 chapters. Hope you've enjoyed this, but even if you have criticisms, then please put them in a review! Thank you in advance!  
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